


all these voices (in the background of my brain)

by leslou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16-Year-Old Harry Styles, 18-Year-Old Louis Tomlinson, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bottom Harry, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, First Times, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Harry's never been kissed before, Innocent Harry, Kissing, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Not a lot though, One Shot, Smut, Top Louis, Virgin Harry, a little fluff, a little plot, innocent!kink, louis is in love with harry, mostly just smut though, only a little though, some comeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslou/pseuds/leslou
Summary: Louis rocks back onto the heels of his palms, before dipping his hips down and grinding forward."Fuck," Harry breathes. Louis watches the boy's knuckles turn white where they're clenched at his sides.He ruts down again a few more times, feeling Harry's clothed dick rapidly harden underneath his.orThe one where Harry has a crush on a boy and asks Louis to "platonically" practice frotting with him. Only, there's an issue: Louis is in love with Harry.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 128





	all these voices (in the background of my brain)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't as kinky as the other stuff I tend to write, but it's loaded with innocent!kink. It's still good, so give it a read if you think innocent Harry coming undone is hot :))
> 
> Also, the last fic I posted, which was also my first, got over 3k hits, whaaat??? I was totally not expecting that, so thanks to everyone who read it, wow. This is my second fic I’ve ever posted, though I’ve written more and will definitely post more.
> 
> Huge thank you to Anna for reading the snippets I sent her of this fic at inhuman hours of the night. You're the best.
> 
> ALSO: Harry is sixteen. Louis is eighteen. In England and many states in America, their relationship would be legal, which is why I didn't give the underage warning to this fic. So if you're uncomfortable with the age gap, imagine they're a different age (it would be a bit difficult considering their ages are mentioned in the fic) or don't read it. Right. That's it for warnings, so go on and read!
> 
> -
> 
> Title: Telepatía - Kali Uchis

Harry and Louis are sprawled out on the plush carpet of Louis’ bedroom, some old vinyl playing on the record player as they stare up at the ceiling and share a bag of gummy worms.

It would be okay. It would be totally fine, totally cool.

If Louis was never in love with his best friend.

Because hearing Harry babble on about how hot he finds Sebastian, some kid in his english class with “the best set of blue eyes literally ever” and “the kindest smile” is pure torture. He should be the boy Harry is nervous to talk to, he thinks. He should be the boy Harry’s stomach gets all fluttery for when they touch. He should be the boy Harry thinks has the prettiest blue eyes. But he isn’t. And he has to fucking deal with it.

“What do you think?”

Harry’s soft voice breaks him out of the barricade of angry, self-pitiful thoughts in his head.

“What? Sorry, kinda spaced out…”

“Oh, well I was just saying that I have no idea how to kiss and that I should probably practice.”

“W-What? For what?”

“Y’know. For when I kiss Sebastian.”

Right. Harry’s never been kissed before. Louis doesn’t know how, though, his lips are so round and plump and red, so kissable. His teenage, testosterone-raging brain automatically wanders to how Harry’s lips would look wrapped around his co—

Nope. Louis will not have thoughts like that about his best friend while he’s in the same room.

“How would you even practice?” Louis asks him with a scoff, trying to distract his own brain from the endless sexual scenarios surrounding Harry it could concoct.

“I dunno. I could kiss my reflection.”

“Your reflection? Har— no, just no. I’m not going to let you snog my mirror. Besides, it wouldn’t even be an effective practice object.”

“What, then? A cupcake? A popsicle?”

Louis sighs, turning his head to face Harry. “I’m sure you’ll be a fine kisser without practicing. I didn’t practice for mine and it went fine.”

Harry looks at him. “Oh my god.”

Louis’ brows furrow slightly. “What?”

“You’ve never told me about your first kiss!”

Louis shifts. “Harry, no, that’s impossible. I’m sure I’ve told you.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“That’s— no. I’ve told you about it.”

“You seriously haven’t, it never came up.”

Louis rubs his eyes, groaning. “You— I— fine. Jesus christ. It was in 8th grade.”

There’s a pause before Harry speaks again, and Louis thinks it’s because he’s waiting for Louis to delve into details.

“That’s it? Come on, Lou, tell me more!” Harry props his head up on his elbow, staring intensely into his eyes.

Louis squirms a bit, scratching at his thigh over his sweatpants. “It was a boy. We snogged against a tree. Frotted for a bit. That’s it.”

“Frotted? What? What’s that?”

“You’re… You’re kidding, right?”

Harry’s sixteen. There’s no way he doesn’t know what frotting is. There can’t be. He’s surely popped boners before, curiously typing “pornhub” into a private browser and— yeah, Harry’s messing with him, that’s it. Harry knows what frotting is, he’s just lying. Yes. Lying.

“Stop messing with me,” Louis laughs nervously, and when he reaches into the bag for another gummy worm, there’s no more. Great. He’s ran out of gummy worms _and_ Harry’s probably about to have him explain what frotting is.

“I’m literally not! Please tell me, Louis. I need to know for Sebastian, he might want to do whatever frotting is and I have to know.”

Fucking Sebastian. Always finding a way to weasel into their conversations. Louis’ sure Sebastian is a lovely person. Harry likes him, so his character must check out. But god, if he doesn’t resent him.

“Fuck, Harry, just like google it or something. I’m not going to explain how frotting works to you.”

He stares back up at the ceiling, awaiting Harry’s response, but it never comes. When he steals a glance at Harry, he notices he’s typing furiously into his phone.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, scooting himself closer to Harry to peer at his phone screen.

“Googling it. Like you said.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean now! I meant later! Not now! Jesus!”

He makes an attempt at snatching Harry’s phone out of his hands, but Harry’s jabbing an elbow at his rib and kneeing away from him frantically, intently scanning the screen. When Louis finally gets his hands on the stupid phone, it’s too late. He can tell by the look on Harry’s face that he’s already found out.

“That’s…” Harry trails off, his hands dropping down to his sides from holding the ghost of his phone.

Louis gulps, mindlessly dropping Harry’s phone on the nightstand. “What exactly, erm, did you… read?” 

Harry goes to sit at the edge of the bed, Louis plopping down next to him.

“Um. It’s like— the urban dictionary said that… it’s when you… _rub…_ your crotch. On somebody else’s. Or something.” Color fills both their cheeks.

“Pretty much,” Louis half-whispers.

“Can I— Can I try?”

“What? Frotting? How would you—”

“With you? Please?”

Louis thinks he might shit himself.

“No, Harry! What? You can’t do that with me! That’s— That’s not for friends to do.”

“But we’re best friends. And we know we’re nothing more, it’s just practice for Sebastian.”

The words “we’re nothing more” ring in Louis’ ears. He shouldn’t let this happen. He’ll only end up hurt, he knows it. He’ll get to feel Harry, to witness what he looks like when he’s blissed out, and he knows he’ll never be able to settle for anyone else.

But Louis’ stupid and he’s horny. He’s also an 18 year old who’s been desperately in love with his best friend for several years. He supposes any sort of rational thinking left his body years ago, so that’s why he blurts out:

“All right. Fine.”

Harry grins, lunging at Louis and wrapping him in a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he says in that soft, delicate voice, the one that gets Louis to do literally anything. Exhibit A, Louis thinks in his head.

“So then I guess I’ll just— uh— lay down.” Louis says with his face mushed in between Harry’s shoulder and his neck.

Harry pulls away, nodding with innocent eyes.

Innocent.

Right. Louis is taking away Harry’s innocence right now. With how naively Harry is treating the situation, Louis doesn’t even think he’s gotten off with anybody before. Maybe he’s never gotten off with _himself_ either. He needs to know.

“Do you know why?” Louis asks him, setting himself up against his pillows.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks him, still perched at the edge of the bed.

“Well do you know why you— erm— frot? Like why people would even… _rub…_ their groins against each other?”

Harry crawls up the bed, laying himself down next to Louis.

“Well, yeah. I know it’s cause’ they’re hard or something.” Harry stares intently at the array of David Bowie posters Louis has on his ceiling. 

“Have you ever, like, done stuff? With someone else? Or yourself?”

“Not with other people. Not really with myself, either, I mean? I’ve gotten hard before. Obviously. I never really… figured out… how to deal with it though.”

Oh god. This conversation has Louis’ boxers straining. He wonders if Harry’s noticed.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, looking everywhere but Harry.

“I mean… I’ve tried, you know. To get off. With— erm— my hand. And stuff. But it never really, like, worked. I think— I think I need more? Like a person, with me?”

“Right. _Fuck._ Okay.”

“What? Did I say something wrong? Louis, I—”

“—Listen closely, Harry. We don’t have to do this, okay? You don’t have to do anything with Sebastian. Or me. Or anyone. Not until you’re ready. I don’t want you to be pressured into doing shit because it’s ‘cool’ or whatever.”

“But I want to be ready for whatever comes, Lou. I think it’d be good for me to practice with you, I don’t want to freak out with Sebastian since it could be my first time orgasming, you know? I’d rather have my first beforehand, so I know what works for me, and _if_ anything works for me. Who knows, maybe I can’t even cum.”

“Harry, no. You can orgasm, okay? I don’t think that’s a thing you can’t do. And if it is, you don’t have it.” Louis exhales deeply, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers before swinging a leg over Harry’s hips and straddling him. Harry’s breath audibly hitches.

“You’re sure about this? I— Harry.” Louis searches his eyes for any discomfort before saying, “I’m going to be hard, okay? I’m not going to be unaffected. Friction is friction. You won’t be unaffected, either.” Louis whispers “I think,” under his breath before continuing. “So just… don’t freak out, please? If, like, my dick is into it? Because it will be.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and the pointedness of his words contradict the gentle air of his voice. “I know, okay? I’m not stupid. And it doesn’t matter anyway, right? We’re just friends, like I said. You’re not attracted to me, I’m not attracted to you. There’s nothing here. All we’re doing is practici—”

“—Jesus, Haz, I get it. I think you friendzoned me fifty times in the last five minutes.”

“How would I— what is there to friendzone?”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Uh— nothing. There’s nothing. For you to friendzone. I don’t know why I said that. We should, um, start.”

Louis rocks back on the heel of his palms, before dipping his hips down and grinding forward.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. Louis watches the boy’s knuckles turn white where they’re clenched at his sides.

He ruts down again a few more times, feeling Harry’s clothed dick rapidly harden underneath his.

“Feels so good… Lou, I— it never felt like this with my hand,” Harry whines, his brows furrowed, jaw twitching open and closed. Louis is the one who has him weak like this, Louis is the one who has him trembling with pleasure. Harry can’t get this from Sebastian, and he almost tells him so, but the pretense that Harry will get pissed if he does refrains him.

“It’s cause— fuck— you don’t know what I’m gonna do next. You’re not controlling me in the way you control your hand.” Louis bites his lip as he watches Harry’s hands hesitate upwards a few times, as if he’s deciding whether or not he should touch Louis. 

“You can touch,” Louis whispers, their clothed erections aligned as they slide against each other. Harry’s hands immediately dart to Louis’ arse, gripping him through his sweats, pulling his hips down harder when Louis ruts too gently.

“Louis?” Harry breathes out, “How am I doing? Should I be doing things different?”

“No, god, no. You’re perfect, the faces you make, I— change _nothing,_ Harry.”

Then Harry moans.

And Louis’ world stops. It’s a sound he never thought he’d hear, a sound that Harry produced beautifully in the back of his throat, tossed up a few octaves, smooth and whiney.

Louis throws caution to the wind and moans back. He feels Harry’s grip on his arse tighten, the next rut hotly desperate. Harry’s hard cock presses against his own, the thin layers of sweatpants not leaving much of Harry’s cock to Louis’ imagination. He can feel every part of it, the shaft, the tip, all of it, pronounced and hard to ignore.

Louis’ insistent daydreaming about Harry’s cock is interrupted by a whiny voice. Harry’s whiny voice. “Fuck, I— Lou, there’s like this heat in my belly and I feel like I need to pee, and—”

“—That’s it, Harry, you’re gonna cum. That’s what it—” Louis squeezes his eyes shut, his voice low and barely above a whisper when he says, “Fuck you’re going to cum, oh my god.”

Harry’s breathing is even more hindered now, his words barely getting out in between frantic pants. “Lou— What do I do? Do I let go? It was so quick, is it— is it not supposed to be that quick? Should I hold back with Sebastian?”

Louis winces at the mention of Sebastian, choosing to ignore it instead of dwelling on it. He shakes his head, “This is your first time, Haz, I don’t think you’ll get close this quickly the next time you do it. Don’t worry about it.” Louis punctuates his words with a particularly rough thrust against Harry’s groin. A beat later, Harry’s sobbing.

“Fuck, feels so good, don’t want it to stop, please let me cum. Want to know what it feels like. I get that cumming in my fucking pants isn’t the most graceful thing, and I’m just asking you to put your disgust aside so I can have this. _Please.”_

Harry is begging Louis to cum. _Harry._ Is begging _Louis._ To _cum._ Tell that to Louis from fifteen minutes ago, and he’d say you have half a brain in your head.

“Harry, I could never, you’re— you’re not gross. Or disgusting. You’re hot, actually, so yeah. You can cum, Haz. Fuck.”

“What? What does that— ah— what do you mean? Oh, fuck!” But before Louis can open his mouth to take back his words, or clarify, or whatever the fuck a person does when they tell their best friend that they’re hot, Harry is shouting, “Fuck, Lou, I’m really close, I think— oh god, is it going to hurt? Tell me Louis, is it going to hur— Oh, Shit! Fuck! So… good…” Harry makes a little “ungh” in the back of his throat, and Louis swears he could’ve came right then and there. “Come on, tell me, Lou. Need to know, begging you!”

“No! No! It won’t hurt— Jesus, Haz, you’re so… _fuck.”_

“Come on, say things, need— need more, touch me, tell me shit, anything, just make it hot!”

“You… you mean like touch your… dick? You want me to— are you sure, Harry?”

“Yes, please, so sure, just do it! Just need to cum, wanna cum, do it do it do it—”

“—Okay! I’m doing it— fuck!” Louis scoots himself down Harry’s torso so that he’s seated on his thighs instead of his hips, fumbling with the drawstrings of Harry’s sweats before tugging them down to his thighs. Harry’s cock strains against the tight fabric of his boxers, a large wet spot on the front of them from his pre-cum. Louis hooks his fingers into the waistband of the boxers and pulls them down, almost choking on air when Harry’s cock bobs up, hard and flushed, the tip a purple-red hue. 

It’s beautiful, Louis thinks, just like he thought it would be. He wants to lick it.

Yeah, telling Harry he wants to “lick his cock” is probably not the hottest thing to tell him, so he spins his thoughts into something more enticing.

“God, do you know how pretty your cock is, Haz? How badly I want my mouth on it? Jesus, it’s so _big.”_

“Oh, fuck, more, Louis, more! Touch me, please, touch me!”

Louis carefully wraps his hand around Harry’s throbbing shaft, his cock kicking at the sudden contact. He jerks Harry slowly at first, reveling in the way separate veins seem to pop out in pleasure, but when Harry heaves something like an annoyed groan, he changes his strokes to quick, desperate movements with only one objective: making Harry cum. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Louis, just like that, ah, don’t stop! Oh, fuck!”

Louis makes quick work of stripping himself of his sweats and boxers, making sure one hand is always jerking Harry, before letting his own naked cock slip into the grip he has around him. He jerks them both off at the same time, the pressure of Harry’s hard cock against his own making his eyes roll back. He swipes his thumb over both their tips, bringing his hand up to his mouth to suck around the finger, savoring the pre-cum, returning his hand to their cocks before Harry can yell at him to get back to jerking them off.

With the aftertaste of their pre-cum, the needy moans that slip from Harry’s lips, the steady friction on his cock, and the feeling of skin-on-skin contact, Louis rapidly approaches his orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Haz, I’m gonna cum, please, I—” Louis shakes, his hand sloppily stroking their cocks faster and faster, helping himself through his orgasm. His white-hot cum spreads down both their shafts with the wet clicking of his fist as he continues to jerk them, despite his own oversensitivity. 

“Fu-uck! So hot, love your cum, I— Cumming— _oh,_ fuck, yes, Louis! Oh! Oh!” Harry’s back arches, sobs strained, convulsing as he orgasms for the first time. He spurts ropes and ropes of cum between them, painting their abs and cocks as Louis steadily strokes the two of them, Louis unable to distinguish Harry’s moans from his own. His cum mixes in with Louis’ release, the sight almost enough to make Louis hard again. 

Louis’ hand only slows to a stop when Harry starts to slap his hand away, the boy squirming from sensitivity. Louis lets his body collapse over his, but one annoyed huff and a push to the side later, he’s curled around himself next to Harry.

Louis’ about to say something sappy to Harry, something that might blur the line of their friendship too, but before he can, Harry’s laughing hysterically.

“What? What is it? Why are you— why are you laughing?” Suddenly, burning insecurity floods Louis. Is he being mocked right now? Is this a joke to Harry, a way to humiliate him? Deep down he knows those thoughts are irrational, that Harry would never, but it does nothing to ease his anxiety.

“Nothing, I just,” he cackles again, “it just occurred to me that I had my first orgasm before I had my first kiss.”

Louis bursts out in laughter then, too, absently pressing his face into his hands before realizing his hands are rather filthy at the moment, having just jerked them both to orgasm, coated heavily in release. Harry apparently catches onto the fact, too, cackling even louder when Louis pulls his hands away and reveals two messy handprints of cum on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Louis mutters, forcing himself to heave off the bed, padding groggily to the bathroom to retrieve two wet washcloths. Once they’re both cleaned off, they lay there for a little, bottom halves buck naked as they stare up at David Bowie on Louis’ ceiling.

“We’re half-naked,” Louis says in a quiet voice.

“And we just came all over each other,” Harry responds.

“That doesn’t really… whatever. Sebastian, right? Practice. For Sebastian.” Louis shakes his head minutely before breathing a short laugh, “Do you think he’d be thrilled after hearing you just got off with me? I mean, wouldn’t he be threatened?”

“He— He doesn’t own me. We’re not even together yet. Haven’t even told him I like him. And besides, this was platonic. Not to mention you’re _Louis,_ you’re not someone people get intimidated by. Or threatened by, for that matter.”

“Gee, thank you.”

“Take it as a compliment.”

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Louis blurts out, “You literally said you loved my cum.”

Louis feels a hand shove at his shoulder and turns to face Harry, scoffing as he shoves him back.

“Well you’re not any better,” Harry says, his voice groggy in a post-orgasm haze. “You called my dick pretty.”

“Yeah, well, I can like your dick platonically,” Louis retorts, gripping his own forearm tightly in an effort to refrain himself from confessing his feelings to Harry right there. Louis whispers “Just friends” and hears Harry sigh heavily next to him.

“You don’t suppose you want that kissing practice now?” Harry asks in a voice so low Louis thinks if he had been breathing he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Wha—”

The milliseconds that lead up to Harry’s mouth on Louis’ is a blur, an elated fog in Louis’ mind if he tries to think back to the moment. One moment, his lips are slightly chapped and lonely, the next, they’re pressed warmly against Harry’s. The kiss is barely a kiss, not with Harry grinning so much it’s more teeth than lips, his amateur tongue messily working at Louis’ mouth. But it’s somehow perfect.

Louis does register when Harry pulls back, though, immediately missing his touch where it matters most. Harry wipes the spit off of his mouth, but Louis doesn’t, too dazed to think about how messy he looks.

“What was that for?” Louis barely gets out, his vision blurring together, doubles of everything appearing as feelings of dizziness float in and out of his head.

“Practice,” Harry pants, his gaze traveling over every plane of Louis’ flushed face. They stare at one another for a moment, apparently searching for the same sign in each other’s faces, the sign that tells them “It’s mutual.”

“I like you.” Louis blurts out, his voice breathy with affection. He doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to talk himself out of it, because the kiss planted a seed of reckless bravery in him that he knows will only exist as long as the ghost of Harry’s lips on his does. The seed isn’t enough to tell Harry he loves him, as strong as it is, but this is good for now. Yes, he thinks, this is definitely good for now, because Harry is throwing himself at Louis again.

When they part, Louis asks with tingly lips that make his words come out in a gentle slur, “What about Sebastian?”

“Who’s Sebastian?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop a kudos if you liked it, it doesn't hurt. Check out more of my work if you like my writing! :))


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